


The World Don't Stop

by thefairfleming



Series: The Trouble With Stars [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Eleven's virtue is compromised yet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Don't Stop

The Doctor sits on the bed, and goes over certain facts.  
  
There’s the place: An ocean liner, sailing the seas of Deliac V. There’s the time: Sometime in the 28th century. Then of course, the why: Which he… well, he hasn’t figured out just yet. All he knows is that the TARDIS materialized in the ship’s hold, and there are 3 members of the planet’s royal family onboard, so really, it’s just a matter of time before someone is assassinated, or kidnapped, or attempts to take over the universe.  
  
He likes these facts. They’re good, exciting, easy to understand. And they help take his mind off the fact that Amy Pond is in the bathroom, naked.  
  
Well, he assumes she is. She’s taking a bath, so it’s a safe bet.  
  
He sighs, and thumps the sonic screwdriver against his forehead. Why did the psychic paper have to inform the crew that they were the Ambassador of Dege and his wife? Why not his co-worker? Or his sister? Or anything else that meant they absolutely, positively _could not_ share a cabin?  
  
He hears Amy humming, and water splashing. She’ll be out soon. And if he knows Amy Pond (which, he reminds himself, he does now. Intimately.), she’ll want to get…conjugal.  
  
He gulps when the bathroom door opens.  
  
She’s wrapped in a pink towel that makes her skin look rosy. Her hair is twisted in a knot at the base of her neck, and a wicked smile plays on her lips.  
  
He is doomed.  
  
She’s warm and still damp when she straddles his lap, her hands moving to his braces.   
  
“Amy,” he murmurs, covering her fingers with his. She pulls back, quirks an eyebrow. “Ooh,” she says lightly, but there’s a spark of irritation in her eyes, “so we’re still doing the token resistance thing? Really?”  
  
“It’s not resistance,” he answers. “It’s-it’s….self-preservation. _You-_ preservation.” He realizes he would sound more convincing if his hands hadn’t drifted to her waist. “It’s a mistake.”  
  
Amy smiles. She leans forward again, lips trailing along his jaw. “You say that every time,” she sing-songs.  
  
“It’s a mistake every time,” he replies, but his eyes are drifting closed and the hands on her hips are pulling her closer.   
  
When her mouth finally covers his, there’s no resistance, token or otherwise.  
  
“That’s not exactly true, though, is it?” Amy comments when they pull apart. Her fingers tunnel through his hair as he kisses her neck. “The first time wasn’t a mistake. We were saving a planet.”  
  
“A star,” he mumbles against her skin. Gacrux. Foolish place, powering their entire civilization through pheromone technology. He and Amy had found themselves swept into the yearly star-wide marriage ceremony. And all marriages on Gacrux had to be consummated.  
  
 _Why not?_ she'd asked. _You’ve done lots of worse things to save a species. And it’s not as if the universe will implode because we shagged.  
  
No, _he'd told her at first. _It’s madness._  
  
And it had been. Madness that night. Madness the day months afterward when they’d dashed into the TARDIS, laughing, narrowly escaping death yet again, and suddenly found themselves up against the console, tearing at each other’s clothes. Madness a few weeks ago when she’d crept into his bedroom, wearing a white nightgown and that same, teasing smile.  
  
Madness now, on this great ship, calmly sailing through Deliac V’s dark waters.  
  
He’ll stop soon, he tells himself as he kisses his way back to her lips.   
  
Then her fingers are tugging his bowtie, and he’s trying to unwind her towel (which ends in him nearly dumping her on the floor, and her shrieking and snapping one of his braces as she tries to catch herself.)  
  
Once the towel is off, she scrambles off his lap and onto the bed. He chuckles and wrestles his way out of his clothes.   
  
Finally, they’re naked and moving together, and it’s still madness, and it’s still a mistake, and he’s still doomed, but it’s very hard to remember why he should care.  
  
Afterward, she lies curled against his side. “See?” she says sleepily. “We shagged yet again, and yet again, the world didn’t end.”  
  
He rests his hand against her back, feels the thumping of her heart, and thinks about the day this will have to stop. “No,” he replies. “It didn’t.”


End file.
